Meant to Stay Star-Crossed
by Jenebra
Summary: He was, for lack of a better word, sexy. And she knew it. OOC, Everlark, teacher/student.
1. Chapter 1

Love had not been kind to Her. She was...different than Her classmates. Their hearts seemed to follow a logic, an order set forth by Aphrodite herself. But Her's did not know these laws, and so She found the things that were worst for Her. She had a knack for it.

* * *

He was the pinnacle of beauty. His hair - blonde, styled, and with a dusting of grey - framed His clean-shaven face, emphasizing the intensity of His eyes. Long, slender fingers framed massive palms, which transitioned into strong arms. He wore collared shirts, plaid usually, and brown blazers with suede elbow pads. He was, for lack of a better word, sexy.

And She knew it.

But He was Her mentor, and anything beyond the innocence of a schoolgirl crush could never be.

* * *

The band on His left ring finger taunted Her - it laughed in Her face. And although Her brain could comprehend the severe indecency of Her lust, Her heart could not, and so it feasted. On His words, on His movements, on His smile.

He picked up a book, _The Poems of Sappho_, and turned to the eighth page.

"I took my lyre and said:/ Come now, my heavenly/ tortoise shell: become/ a speaking instrument," He read. She relished the way He paused in the midst of lines - a subtle way of showing which words mattered most.

He showed pictures of Grecian instruments, and commented on how the lyre was created to, through the vibration of the strings, recreate the vibrations of life. The He placed His hand on His heart and beat against His chest in a steady rhythm.

"The drum," He said, "is similar. It replicates the sound of the human heartbeat - perhaps because the heart is the first thing we hear in the womb, or perhaps because as you grow close with someone, the most important sound in your world becomes the sound of their heart, beating just for you."

After four beats, He moved on with His lecture, but He continued to pump His palm slowly against His chest, as though proving that His words were His entire soul and being. And with every thump, She fell a little bit deeper.

* * *

The ringing bell caused Her chest to tighten. She slowly placed Her notebook in Her bag, waiting for all others to vacate the room, until it was just the two of Them. She stood silently, clutching Her book, _The Last Time as We Are_, to her chest. A week earlier, He'd led the group in a discussion of ars poetica, and She'd brought the book to show Him Her favorite example of it. But now that Her last chance had come, She found her tongue in knots.

"Can I help you with something?" He asked in His normal, friendly manner. She stood, silently waiting for Her mouth to make some intelligible noise.

"No, sir. Thank you."

She ran from the room, Her opportunity lost. But maybe that was okay.

Maybe some lovers were meant to stay star-crossed.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, a couple of people asked me to continue this story, so I've decided to continue it for a few more chapters. Merry Valentines Giving. Please note that the rating will change to M for chapter 3 - not because chapter 3 will contain M-rated material, but because that's the direction his story will likely take.**

She was the same, but different. Over-sized t-shirts and jeans had made way for short skirts and tailored dresses, sneakers had been replaced by practical flats, and bulky backpacks had become sleek bohemian-style shoulder bags.

He had changed, too. His hair, once blonde, was now a sleek silver, and there were new wrinkles framing His face.

It made sense, really, that They should have changed, and while Their ages were as vastly separated as they were erewhile, the gap seemed somehow smaller. Their conversations now consisted of a certain ease that only comes from life's experiences. He'd felt pain, and now She had too. They understood one another.

It was the summer after She'd graduated college, and Her alma mater had requested Her presence for a five-year reunion. He'd located Her by the snack bar, munching on Fritos and laughing with a fellow alumna. Recognizing Him, She smiled shyly and bid Her friend farewell before moving in His direction.

He gestured at Her, "I'd say you look so grown-up, but that would be an understatement."

She giggled, a girly - but somehow mature - sound. "Thanks. I guess. I'm surprised you're still teaching here."

"I'm not _that_ old," He gasped, feigning offense. Although, in truth, He didn't wish for Her to acknowledge his age.

Her eyes widened as She realized the underlying meaning of Her words. "I didn't mean anything by it. I've just noticed that most of my former teachers seemed to have moved on."

He smiled, setting Her worried heart at ease. "Well, life just keeps changing, and I like to have at least one constant." He reached up a hand to run it through His hair.

That's when She noticed the absence of His wedding band, confirming the rumor She'd heard. He was no longer married - at least, not in the traditional sense. His wife, a lovely woman with an almost-literal heart of gold, had been diagnosed with a rare form of lung cancer three years earlier. She was at stage four when the cancer was discovered. There is no stage five. As a result, she'd died two months later, and been laid to rest in her hometown of Annapolis, Maryland.

He'd taken his time grieving - the school had granted Him a leave of absence lasting 1 year, during which a substitute taught His classes, and He was free to say goodbye - and He'd remained single for a while after. But now, He'd reentered the dating scene, a widowed, attractive, high school English teacher.

She tilted Her head sympathetically. "I heard about your wife - I'm so sorry."

He nodded, suddenly taking an interest in His brown pennyloafers. "I am too. But she's in a better place now, and as my support-group councelor always says, life is for the living. We can remember the dead, and we can grieve for them, but we cannot refuse to go on simply because they're no longer with us." He looked back at Her. "Thank you for the condolance."

She smiled sadly. "I can't even imagine the pain of losing someone like that."

"You will, someday." He sighed. "Not to be morbid, but it will happen to all of us with time. And when it happens to you, I hope that you'll have just as strong of a support system as I have."

"If you ever need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to call me."

"Thank you."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment.

She was the first to speak. "I'd better get going."

"Are you in town much longer?"

She shook Her head. "Only for a few weeks. I have to be back at work by August first."

He stuffed His left hand into the back pocket of His jeans. "Would you like to get coffee sometime? I haven't really gotten to know what you've been up to these past five years."

After a moment, She nodded. "Coffee sounds great."


End file.
